


What You Should Do With Christmas Trees

by Aierdome



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Emil - meet flamethrower, Flamethrower - meet Emil, Forum advent calendar thingy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aierdome/pseuds/Aierdome
Summary: Emil, meet flamethrower. Flamethrower, meet Emil. You'll get along fabulously.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Made for 2016 Forum Advent Calendar.

“Isn’t this too early for a Christmas tree?”, Emil asked, leaning over the small, pitiful thing standing on the table in the mess hall. It was already surrounded by a carpet of needles, there was a paper star on top, leaning drunkenly to the side, and the scant few ornaments were put on the branches rather than hung from them. Emil compared it in his head with the massive spruce that had decorated his family’s home last Christmas and sighed.

He narrowed his eyes, moving closer to the tree. After a moment, his eyebrows shot up.

“And that’s not even a tree, Anita. It’s a bunch of branches tied together with a string.”

“It’s all we’ve managed to save before the captain got her hands on the trees, Emil, so don’t complain,” the cook told him serenely, mixing the soup. “And be as kind as to let others have their lunch too, would you?”

Emil glanced behind him and quickly scuttled away, chased by the disgruntled stares of other Cleanser cadets. He sat down and looked into his soup. A sigh escaped him.

Fish soup. It was always fish soup. Yet again, Emil found himself thinking of the good old times of one year ago, when he had pork and caviar and bovine and all the things that weren’t fish soup. When he’d once asked about possibility of better food, Anita had clearly done her best not to burst out laughing. He hadn’t asked again.

Foul mood hung over him all throughout the dinner as other cadets around him were chatting incessantly, oddly animate. Emil couldn’t understand their enthusiasm. They’d all been here for six weeks now and instead of learning how to burn and detonate things, all they were doing was running, doing push-ups, cleaning their dorms and learning about military procedure.

_I’m starting to think the recruitment poster lied to me_ , Emil thought gloomily as he picked the empty bowl. He carried it to the wash and cast another glance at the ‘Christmas tree’.

He blinked and leaned towards Anita, who was still pouring people soup.

“Anita, what did the captain need those trees fo-“

“ _ATTEN-SHUN!_ ”

Emil hopped in surprise and spun around, then quickly jumped to attention along with everyone else.

Lieutenant Olander, captain’s aide, was standing in the mess hall’s door, filling them almost completely with his massive frame. He glared at everyone from underneath the bushy eyebrows and Emil felt the skin on his back crawl as Olander’s gaze passed over him. There wasn’t much love lost between the two of them.

Finally, the lieutenant growled:

“The cadets will report to the training field B at fourteen hundred.”

He left, and walked good five strides before calling, “At ease!”

Only then did anyone permit themselves to relax. The chatter among the cadets returned with increased energy. Emil glanced at the clock on the wall and cursed under his breath. He hoped to have a chance to fix his hair before the next lecture or whatever it was supposed to be, but it was five to two, and Emil had only made the mistake of being late once.

* * *

 

The Cleanser training camp at Skutskär was set in a wide plain on the shore of the sea, with a stripe of beach, which Emil had come to hate, and a set of fields, all meticulously cleaned of grass and weeds by cadets whom Olander had found wanting. The sky was overcast and a cold wind blew from the south, carrying with it the sounds of fire and the sweet smell of something burning.

_It’s the sound and smell of people who are having fun_ , Emil thought, wrapping himself in the all-too-thin jacket and stepping from foot to foot, trying to warm himself. They were supposed to get winter clothes. At some point.

As other cadets were filing out of the barracks, he considered the sight before him. There were five trees standing where none had stood before. The ground around them was freshly turned, so Emil supposed that those were the trees that'd been sourced for the mess hall’s ‘Christmas tree’ before they were planted here.

Before he could ponder what new torture this was, the officer barrack’s door flew open and the captain marched outside, followed by Olander, who was carrying some large box in his hands. Before he could shout the order, the cadets quickly formed a line and stood at attention. Emil held his breath.

Olander glared at them as he put the box on the ground.

“Congratulations! You have learned how to stand in a line.”

The captain chuckled and stopped before them as Olander begun to unpack whatever was in the box. She looked up and down the line with a smile on her face.

“Alright, everyone,” she said. “You see, a magical time of the year is coming when we finally stop boring you to death and begin to do something interesting here.”

Emil’s attention perked up. Could it be…?

Olander took it out of the box and Emil heard himself gasp. Somewhere distant, the captain was still talking.

“Today, you will familiarize yourself with the basic tool of our trade: the flamethrower!”

His heart jumped. An uncertain murmur passed through the line. Emil couldn’t understand it. Wasn’t it why they were all here? He kept on staring at the flamethrower, watching Olander’s fingers dance on various triggers and buttons as he checked the weapon. In Emil’s eyes, it seemed to be glowing.

He almost jumped when Olander glared at them all and barked:

“Quiet!”

Everyone fell silent again. The captain smiled softly.

“Lieutenant Olander will explain the basics of using the flamethrower, and each of you will give it a try. Tomorrow, you’ll start practicing in the earnest.”

She stepped back and Olander stood up, holding the flamethrower before him. Emil, his heart pounding in his ears, couldn’t tear his eyes away. He could almost feel it calling to him. _I’m here. Come and take me. I’m waiting for you._

Olander knocked on the flamethrower’s tank.

“Alright, rabble, here’s the basics. Tanks – hose – handle – safety valve. You turn the safety valve, flip this switch, point the hose and press the trigger. The stronger you press, the stronger the flame,” he rattled off and looked at them. “Understood? Great. Who goes first?”

A wave of silence passed over the cadets. Of course, no-one could understand anything after three second of demonstration, but that was the point each and every time they were introduced to something new. Someone would be volunteered to give it a try and fail miserably. Olander would then berate the unlucky ‘volunteer’ and make an example of them before repeating everything once more with a healthy dose of his personal views on their worth.

But this time, Emil’s hand shot up before Olander even finished saying ‘first’.

The man looked him over and grinned with malice.

“Västerström. How wonderful. Alright, come here and show us how great you are.”

It took all of Emil’s self-control not to pounce on the flamethrower in Olander’s hands. Somehow, he managed to take it and sling the tank on his back in a civilized fashion. The handle slid into his hand like it was made to be there and he breathed deeply, the rest of the world forgotten as he caressed the mechanism with the other hand. It was warm to touch, like a living thing. Remembering Olander checking it earlier, Emil turned the valve exactly one rotation clockwise, then waited two seconds and switched the safety off. He could feel the flamethrower buzz in his hands, ready to show the world what it could do.

_You and me both_ , Emil thought, feeling a grin on his face as he aimed the hose at one of the trees and pressed the trigger all the way.

A river of fire sprung out on the hose and there was a triumphant roar in the air and the world smelled of napalm and Emil realized that he was in love. Hearing himself laugh, he swung the hose from side to side, rejoicing in the elegant arc of the flame, the way it stuck to the trees, the ferocity with which it consumed all and defied the wind, the red, fierce glow, the cracking of needles dying in flames by the thousand…

Through the joyful haze, he could feel a hand on his shoulder.

“Enough,” Olander was saying.

Emil did not want to stop. The hand on his arm tightened.

“Västerström, I said _enough_.”

That brought Emil back to reality. Regretfully, he let go of the trigger and the fire died with a sad little wheeze. Feeling much the same, Emil switched the safety back on, turned the valve closed and passed the tank to Olander, who was, yet again, glaring at him.

“If you’re so eager to train, Västerström, then you’ll have more than your fill tomorrow. Now, back to the line.”

Emil felt elation rising in him once again and he almost danced his way back to the other cadets. In the corner of his eye, he could see Olander and the captain exchange worried glances.

Frankly, he couldn’t care less.


End file.
